


stumbling through the rain and cradling the stars

by Another_Place



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Slow Burn, Vomiting, betaread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29498619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Another_Place/pseuds/Another_Place
Summary: Osamu turns back to his desk again just as the bell rings. Suna jumps at the high volume, reality taking him back to the maths book before him. He decides to slam himself headfirst into the pages in the hopes that something written in it will stick to his brain. But if the calculations aren't tattooed over Osamu's lips there is no way he’ll remember them.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	stumbling through the rain and cradling the stars

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Ale for being my beta reader! You are awesome!
> 
> Content Warnings: Minor violence, injuries and blood (chapter v. and viii.) and vomiting (chapter vi.)  
> It is still a very sweet fic, I promise! The Miya brothers are taking their fight a bit too far, just like they already did in the canon past.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

_i.  
_  
Moving to some hick town is exactly like the beginning of some stupid chick flick Suna’s mom always liked watching: It's hell and it makes him gag. But Suna is sure that he would neither meet the love of his life in freaking dullsville, nor get a big best friend group hug on his wedding day. Of course not. Suna is just a fourteen-year-old boy who knows nothing about real-life, according to his mother.  
  
Also, love sucks big time and girls suck, too. They're too loud and gossipy and care about Valentine’s chocolate. Suna never cared about cards or sweets and girls weren't even that pretty. He doesn't get why his friends start talking about them all of a sudden, so he just agrees with anything they say. It's easier that way.

Suna misses his friends, but most of their contact fades away during the summer. It's a mutual thing, so it's kind of okay. But it doesn't change the fact that he's practically all by himself in a new place. His mom isn't the motherly type and his dad is long gone, dead. So his phone keeps him company, eyes glued to the colorful display in his hands. It's full of memes and videos of stupid people doing stupid things. It's brilliant and makes him forget the loneliness. And it's better to laugh than to cry.

It's the last week before school begins and Suna is on his way to the supermarket. He still needs school supplies and ingredients for their next dinner because his mother just fell right into bed last night. Understandably, after coming home at 11 pm. When Suna gets there, he picks up a basket and starts skimming through the aisles in the search for writing pads and ink erasers.  
  
Then he visits the diary section, grinning once he holds the last vanilla pudding in his hand. It's a large cup and doused in delicious chocolate syrup, the same pudding he had back in Aichi with his friends. It reminds him of the lazy weekends where they watched anime all day long and he already sees himself sitting on his bed, digging into the pudding with the biggest spoon he can find while resuming the documentary about shark attacks.

"Oi Foxface!"

_Foxface?_

Suna involuntarily tenses up, but he recovers fast and turns around to look at a slightly smaller boy with piss yellow hair and ugly black streaks.

"I wanted that puddin'!"

He glares and Suna narrows his eyes in defense. "Well, sucks to be you."

The pudding lands unimpressed in his basket and Suna starts to leave, but the pissboy steps to the side to block his way. Sure, Suna could've easily turned around to dodge the confrontation. He isn't much of a fighter, but he is no coward either. And as ridiculous as it sounds, when push comes to shove, he's ready to throw a punch over a stupid pudding.

"Please, I owe it t’ Oshiro-senpai. If I don’t get it today he’s gonna make me scrub th' whole gym,'' the boy whines, and the sudden change of his tone irritates the hell out of Suna. He looks so desperate and probably ready to beg on his knees if Suna asked him to.

“Includin’ th' toilets!” he stresses when Suna doesn’t move an inch to comply with him.

But unluckily for the boy, Suna likes seeing annoying people suffer. "Cleanliness is a virtue so maybe you should pick up some rubber gloves instead."

Seeing the boys face crumble in horror is pure gold. If Suna had gotten that on camera he'd watch it a million times on repeat.

"Yer mean, asshole-," pissboy starts his long list of profanities, but Suna already isn’t listening anymore as he bumps into the boy to pass him.

Was that unnecessarily nasty of Suna? Yes.

But was that deeply satisfying? Also yes.

* * *

_ii.  
_  
School starts and Suna doesn't want to wake up. It's far too early for him, despite the sun greeting him already through light webbed curtains. He also knows that the uniform is far too warm for late summer. He already hates everything and he hasn't even put a foot outside the door yet.

Still, he's twenty minutes early because his mom knows him too well and personally drives him to school so he doesn't embarrass her and himself. But mostly herself. So he's strutting along the corridors of Inarizaki High, amongst all the studious pupils who probably don't know about the good work out routine known as 'Fuck, I overslept again'.

The third-year students already run around school grounds to harass the fresh meat into joining their stupid clubs, but Suna ignores them completely. He knows exactly what he's here for, and as soon as he sees a big, muscular boy in a maroon jersey, he grabs the registration form without even wasting a word. He's too tired for forced small talk and doesn't need convincing anyway.

When Suna opens the door of class 1A a few people look at him, but they quickly resume their conversations. It's already packed in here, so there are not many free seats to choose from. As he threads his way through the classroom he sees someone familiar sitting right in front of one of the last available seats. Suna stops dead in his tracks, staring down at a boy who's just peacefully napping on his desk. When the saliva hits the back of his hand, Suna twists his face in disgust before he drops his backpack next to his new seat and sits down.  
  
Suna sighs and rolls his eyes, noticing a detail so major that he's surprised he didn't see it before. Pissboy’s hair is evenly grey now. Admittedly, a weird choice for a hair color, but it looks much better than that nasty yellow. He might've gone to a professional hairdresser this time. Good for him. But it doesn't make him any less annoying, unless all the bleaching changed the chemicals in his brain.

"SAMU, DID YA STEAL MA LUNCH?" someone yells, bursting through the door like the Japanese Terminator.

Slightly irritated, Suna’s eyes jump from one boy to another. Piss yellow and nicely grey.

_Oooh, they're twins._

Then his face falls as pissboy struts to the sleepyboy in front of him.

_Oh no, there's two of them._

“What th' hell are ya screamin' about?” sleepyboy asks. He slowly rises from his nap and the plain white shirt stretches over his broad shoulders.

_God damn._

It makes Suna jealous. What is this boy eating?

"Ma lunch! Ya have it!"

"I don’t. Ya probably jus' forgot yers, dumbass," sleepyboy calmly suggests. It feels like they have that same argument at least four times a week.

"Show me yer backpack!" the other boy demands while stomping on the ground.

But his twin doesn't see the need to rush. He stretches his arms in the air like he's still in bed, slowly and carefully. Pissboy is already fuming. He would be a wonderful model in a poster about rabies vaccination.

"Suit yerself." Sleepyboy kicks the backpack right onto pissboy’s feet. "But 'm not sharin'!"

Suna watches the pissboy bending over to pick up the backpack. Their eyes unfortunately lock for a second, making him drop everything he was holding on the floor.

"Yer th' puddin' thief!" pissboy roars, his finger pointing unnecessarily right at him. Suna sees all the heads turning in his direction out of the corner of his eye.

What a great introduction.

"I paid legit money for that," Suna deadpans. "And it was delicious."

Suna doesn't even flinch when pissboy knits his eyebrows and steps towards his desk, probably ready to throw him out the window. Suna doesn't doubt that he could do it, but sleepyboy grabs his twin from the backside of his belt and holds him in place like a dog on its collar.

"Whaddaya think yer doin'?" sleepyboy asks, this time on high alert.

"Fuck off! He made me scrub th' whole gym! With toilets n' all!"

"You should've used the toilet brush instead of your head," Suna tells him completely unimpressed.

Suna hears sleepyboy laughing amidst the fury of his stupid twin. The sound tugs softly on the corner of Suna's mouth.

* * *

_iii._  
  
Suna soon learns that these two are named Osamu and Atsumu. Turns out they both signed up for volleyball class and are now lining up before the second and third years like a group of soldiers. Suna hates introducing himself, but he couldn't do worse than Atsumu who announces himself as their new starter setter with the confidence of ten thousand self-righteous morons. A boy named Aran slaps the back of Atsumu’s head immediately, mumbling something about modesty and respect. It almost breaks out into a fight as Osamu smacks him, too, for good measure.  
  
_What the hell?  
  
_Suna gets paired up with Kosaku and, to his misfortune, Atsumu by drawing lots. Playing with the latter is a weird mix of barking profanities and gushing over a particularly good move, depending on how well they meet his crazily high standards. It makes Suna question his sanity over and over again, but in the end, he concludes that Atsumu is a different species and can't be compared to real humans. He's a good setter, though.  
  
The worst thing is that they're up against Ginjima, Osamu, and Aran who excel at seemingly everything. Suna figures that Osamu was a setter at one point because there would be no way for him to set so accurately otherwise. Aran is already in second class, but the lack of another skilled newbie makes him participate in this match. He and Osamu both know each other, so they're naturally more in sync than Suna and two kids he's never played with before. It's more work than Suna has anticipated for their first practice. Their match ends with the opposing team winning, of course. Still, Suna's team fought tooth and nail for their points, so it's a close call.  
  
It's been weeks since Suna last found himself drenched in sweat and yearning for fresh air to fill his lungs, so he quickly strolls to the benches at the side of the gym. He gets his water bottle and lets himself fall right onto the stairs outside, regretting it immediately as his butt hits the hard stone without any precaution. He scrunches his face in pain before taking a huge sip out of his bottle, side-eyeing the person that takes a seat next to him.  
  
"Yer pretty good."  
  
Suna stares at Osamu, who proceeds to drink his water without any hurry or need. He can only scoff at Osamu’s lame attempt to make him feel any better. He doesn't need encouragement in the form of Osamu's stupid sounding words.

Suna shoots him an impassive look. "Yeah, no kidding. I know."

A low chuckle fills Sunas ears, making his thumb press a dent into his plastic bottle.

"Yer a cocky one, aren't ya?"

"It's called confidence. And next time I'm gonna win," Suna promises.  
  
Suna doesn't care about rivalries and he isn't someone to get overly obsessed with people, but he's sure that once he's got Osamu figured out Suna will be able to play him like a puppet without breaking a sweat.

Osamu's mouth twitches slightly upwards, looking almost condescending. "Honestly, ya lack power. So it ain't gonna happen that fast."

Suna's lack of power squirts the content of his bottle right into Osamu's cheeky grin. Suna’s eyes fly wide open as he watches the water roll down Osamu's slim cheeks and pointy chin. He hasn't an ounce of a clue why he just did that, but he sure as hell bolts the fuck away from Osamu as soon as he furrows his eyebrows like he's ready to gauge Suna's eyes out. But Suna is not fast enough to escape the water pouring down his back.

* * *

_iv._  
  
The orange sky stretches before Suna as he kicks his foot off the asphalt to rush down the hill on his skateboard. He feels the wind in his hair and the exhilaration in his veins as he continually gains speed. It's second nature and the only thing that drowns his thoughts to the barest minimum. It's great to get all the junk out of his mind once in a while, only focusing on his surroundings and figuring a way around his obstacles. Everything passes by so quickly and nothing lingers too much. A look at the world without much care and no need to intervene. It's liberating.  
  
That is, of course, until he overlooks a huge tree root that sends him headfirst into a flower bed. He swears that this stupid root made its way through the pavement overnight just to taunt him. And honestly, Suna just wants to keep lying there, but he's not keen on making himself look more stupid than necessary. So he peels himself off the dirt and pats the petals off his clothes, letting them fall on the miserably crushed forget-me-nots before him. He doesn’t feel any remorse for the mess he made.  
  
When he turns around to pick up the board, a familiar face blocks his view, making Suna stop dead in his tracks.

_Oh hell no._

"Lame."

Suna fights the urge to roll his eyes just to show that he actually doesn't care.

"Wasn't trying to impress you," Suna deadpans.

"That much 's obvious."

Suna kicks the board in front of Osamu’s feet and watches him with narrowed eyes.

"Do it better, then," Suna challenges him.  
  
Osamu blinks, looks down, and then back to Suna. His face resembles a blank sheet of paper. "I dunno how t' skate."  
  
Suna sighs. That's no fun, but luckily he knows how to entertain himself just fine. "Wanna learn?"  
  
Osamu shrugs. It's the closest thing to a yes that Suna will probably get out of him.  
  
"Then let's get outta here," Suna suggests and leads the way.  
  
  
  
Luckily, it's a short walk because neither of them seem to be great conversationalists. Only the bag in Osamu's hand rustles in the wind while they both remain dead quiet. Suna already regrets this.

"Here?" Osamu suddenly asks as they reach a middle-sized parking space. They're in front of a florist shop that's already closed.

"Yup," Suna answers behind Osamu and shoves him hard. With a small yelp, Osamu trips a few steps forward, but quickly catches himself. As he turns around his face twists into something ugly.

"What th' fuck is yer problem, Suna?" Osamu snarls through gritted teeth. It's the first time Suna witnesses him blowing up like this.

"Your right foot is leading," Suna tells him matter-of-factly.

"What?" Osamu asks, completely exasperated.

"It's a test. You stepped forward with your right foot, so it goes on the front and your left foot on the tail."

Osamu looks at Suna like he's absolutely mad. He probably starts regretting this as well.

"It works better if you don't know about the fall," Suna adds. Admittedly, Suna pushed him a little too hard for this little experiment, but he doesn't have to tell Osamu that.

"Thought ya wanted t' rob me or somethin'," Osamu says, clearly cooling off as he relaxes his tightly clenched fists.

Suna snorts. "Yeah, I rob my classmates off their mysterious crinkly plastic bags and skediddle skedaddle towards the setting sun."

"Shaddap," Osamu tells him without any heat as the corner of his lips tilt upwards.  
  
  
  
After one solid hour, Suna concludes that Osamu is clumsier than he had initially thought. Surely Suna wasn't any better as a beginner, but he decides that Osamu doesn't deserve his encouragement. So he just silently enjoys Osamu awkwardly rolling over the pavement with his arms flailing around. It's a view for the gods so Suna doesn't hesitate to pull out his phone and record his victim.

Osamu frowns. "Ya filmin' me?"

"No," Suna lies as he watches Osamu flip him off through the display.

He sighs. "Yer a creep."

"Who was standing right behind me just an hour ago?" Suna retorts.

Osamu rolls his eyes into oblivion. "'t wasn't intentional," he says.

"That's what a stalker would say."

"Don't flatter yers-AHHHHHHHH!" The rest gets lost in his fall, accompanied by a loud thud and heavy groans.

"Ahh! My reward!" Suna would rub his hands in satisfaction if he could, but he's busy capturing Osamu's pain as he comes closer. It's not like he's laying in a puddle of blood so Suna thinks Osamu's probably okay.

Suna looks down on him with a sly grin. "Lame."

Osamu closes his eyes as he shakes his head with a defeated sigh. "All this fer th' sake of bein' petty?"

"Pretty much." Suna puts his phone away to hold out his hand to Osamu. "Wanna get up?"

Osamu meets his graciousness with mild disgust. "I don't trust ya."

"Fair enough," Suna admits and lays down next to Osamu.

The concrete under him is expectedly hard, but the sun warmed it up nicely. He presses his back further into the pleasant heat, perfect for the mild afternoon weather. Osamu takes a deep breath like this past hour has been the hardest of his life. And for no particular reason, Suna follows suit.

"Thanks fer th' lesson," Osamu mumbles suddenly. He seems to have some manners after all.

"It's not like I had anything better to do." It's obviously a lie.

But Osamu doesn't seem to care. "Same."

Suna turns his head to Osamu when he hears him shifting. Grey eyes are focused on the steady hand in Sunas hair, picking a little violet petal with calloused fingers. It's just a slight tug that doesn't hurt at all, a gentleness that Suna's never witnessed from anybody before. When the petal gets carried off with the wind his gaze still lingers on the soft edges of Osamu's face. And then, after an eternity, Suna pushes the air out of his lungs again. He can't get a simple word out to thank him, and for once, Osamu doesn't complain about it. They both face the sky again, watching the orange fade slowly away.

"So, what’s Aichi like?"

And with a small sigh, Suna begins to tell him.

* * *

_v._  
  
Suna is convinced that the twins were actually raised by feral animals. They only vaguely adapted to the human race because some moron littered in the wilderness and left two books there for them to find. The first one was a swear book for shits and giggles and the second one an extremely tattered dictionary. And when school ends they both run back into the woods where they hunt a deer and eat it raw. They probably fight about the juiciest parts until their mother growls and makes them stroll into their cave to sleep. This is true because Osamu only visits Suna and never asks him to come over which is highly suspicious. It also explains their ferocious fights.  
  
They are usually highly entertaining and serve as great blackmail material. Like an accident where you can't look away, but you feel bad about it. Not about the phone in your hand recording, but about not helping your friend because you value your life too much to get involved. It usually revolves around Atsumu's ungodly expectations regarding volleyball, lunch Osamu doesn't want to share, or some issues about exams or homework. It's stupid little things blown way out of proportion, but today is different.

This time it's emotional.

"IF YER STUPID ASS HADN’T LEFT TH’ DOOR OPEN WE WOULDN'T HAVE T' SEARCH FOR HER!" Atsumu screams and tackles Osamu to the ground. They crash to the floor with such rampant speed, that Suna is relieved that Osamu doesn't break his back.

"IF YER LAZY ASS HAD HELPED ME I WOULD'VE CLOSED TH' DOOR RIGHT BEHIND ME!"

"DON'T YA DARE BLAME THIS ON ME!" The fury in Atsumu's eyes is terrifying. For once in his lifetime, rightfully so, but it still makes Suna shudder. Just like the rest of the team, they just stand and stare, because not even Kita-san’s pleading can end this madness.

The first punch echoes in the gym like thunder. Blood gushes out of Osamu's nose but he kicks Atsumu off, roaring like a warlord leading his soldiers into battle. It's nothing like anything Suna has ever witnessed before. He feels sorry for both of them. It's a highly unlikely occurrence and therefore it's confusing the hell out of him. Every blooming bruise and every hateful snarl makes Suna's stomach twist and turn like someone's trying to blend his guts. It's a constant loop of fear, hoping this will not end with a limp body in someone's hand. It's the epitome of insanity.  
  


"'S BEEN A WEEK! A WEEK, SAMU! SHE COULD BE A SPLATTER ON TH' HIGHWAY BY NOW AND WE WOULD NEVER KNOW!"  
  
And with that Osamu lets go of Atsumu's collar and bolts through the heavy doors of the gym, leaving a deafening silence behind him.  
  
Suna helped plaster missing posters of their beloved house cat all over the whole city. It was a team effort of the whole volleyball club, but it was depressing nonetheless. Just as much as the trail of posters he has to see every day on his way to school and back, a few numbers ripped off but no useful call. Suna had a hamster once when he was ten years old, so he kind of knows how it feels to lose a pet. The difference is that his hamster lived for two and a half years and he never bothered to care for another one afterward, whereas 'Suzu' has lived with the Miyas for seven years. That's half their lives, and it understandably tears them apart.  
  
Aran and Kita-san get out of their stupor first, helping Atsumu immediately. Someone else has to take care of Osamu, then.

"C'mon!" Akagi mutters as he drags Suna with him. Kita-san nods at them thankfully as they put on their training jackets before leaving.  
  
  
  
"...'s fucked up," Akagi says, still shaken up.

Suna just nods and follows him around the school with Osamu's training jacket folded around his arm.

"I get their fightin' but...what th' hell?" Akagi seems to be at a loss for words.

Suna already knows the answer. "They're animals."

"Agreed."

According to one of their classmates, Osamu ran off school grounds. Suna rolls his eyes at this dramatic exit, but it also kind of makes sense when the gym is near the school gate.

"Let's split up. I go north and ya go south."

"Alright," Suna shrugs, but then the realization hits him. "Wait, why do I have t-"

"Can't hear ya!" Akagi yells, already on his merry way downtown. Emphasis on down. Suna growls as he looks at the hill he’s about to walk up to search for Osamu. That's what he gets for letting other people be in charge.

"You better fucking be there," Suna mutters under his breath as he starts walking.  
  
  
  
"Knock, knock," Suna deadpans, knocking on a lamp post to add more to the effect. It's absolutely stupid and he knows that without seeing the dull look that Osamu shoots him before turning away.  
  
"I don't need ya cheerin' me up," Osamu mutters wearily.  
  
"Good. Makes it a lot easier then," Suna tells Osamu as he sits down beside him to drop the jacket right into his lap.  
  
"That's Tsumu's."  
  
Suna pulls a face. "Shit, really? Sorry."  
  
"Whatever," Osamu shrugs as he puts the jacket over his shivering body.

It gives Suna time to inspect his face, but there isn't much new to discover. He probably washed his face at some restroom, because the blood is gone. But the cut on his lower lip and the dark bruises remain. There's no way Osamu doesn't feel Suna staring, but he's good at ignoring it, sad eyes grazing over the city beneath them like he's still searching for Suzu. And Suna pretends to be able to do the same, but he barely sees anything smaller than a car.  
  
Usually, Suna likes the quiet. A lot of people are bored by it, but not him. Neither is Osamu and that's why their silence quickly lost its awkwardness and developed into something soothing. But tonight Suna doesn't feel very comforting, even though Osamu told him not to bother trying. He hates how Osamu turns away to wipe his tears in shame.  
  
_Boys don’t cry._  
  
But Suna cried alone in his room enough to know that it's complete bullshit. Everybody gets sad, so everybody cries. Suna just stopped telling his mom because she rarely made it better, intentional or not. The only person that acknowledged Suna's pain was a girl in third grade when girls weren't yucky and nobody cared about anything.  
  
Suna decides not to give a fuck either.  
  
"Take my hand."  
  
Osamu's head turns back to Suna. "Umm... what?"

He presents his outstretched hand to Osamu. "My hand. Hold it," Suna repeats.  
  
Osamu looks at the hand like it suddenly grew a sixth finger. Suna is fully aware that this seems completely weird. Osamu has every right to question it.  
  
"Hold my hand. It's gonna be alright," Suna says, just like the little girl did when his father had died. He never forgot these simple words and probably never will.  
  
"Is it?" Osamu whispers.

Their palms touch, warm and heavy. His knuckles are swollen, so Suna tentatively wraps his fingers around his hand, right between the thumb and index finger. Weird how Osamu's hands are capable of so much destruction when their roughness reminds Suna of security. The thought makes his toes curl inside his muddy sneakers.  
  
"Yeah, it's gonna be okay," he reassures Osamu with a gentle squeeze that keeps the coldness of the night at bay.

* * *

  
_vi._

People usually ring a doorbell, wait for someone to open the door, and maybe ring again after like thirty seconds, but then they get the gist that nobody's home and leave. Not this specimen. Suna can ignore the first four rings with an annoyed sigh, but when his doorbell gets obnoxiously violated he gets nosy enough to see who it is. Opening the window next to his bed will have to suffice because he sure as hell won't go downstairs.

"Oi! Yer alive!" Osamu yells up at Suna but Suna doesn't even properly look at him. He's too busy squeezing his eyes shut to escape the nauseousness.  
  
"Don't sound so surprised," Suna grumbles.  
  
"Hey, ya never answered ma texts! I had t' assume ya were at least unconscious!"  
  
"Hahahaha," Suna laughs flatly as he dares to open his eyes. Everything follows the law of gravity as long as he doesn't move a muscle. Perfect.  
  
"I have homework for ya. Lemme in!"  
  
And for the first time, Suna realizes that it must be late afternoon, right after volleyball practice. That means most of this stupid day is already over.  
  
"No way. I was barely able to move to the window. Just leave it at the door."  
  
"'s rainin!" Osamu continues to press on.  
  
"Leave it at the door," Suna repeats sternly.  
  
"Yer hospitality's shit!"  
  
"I-," Suna begins with a frown, but the smallest movement makes everything around him spin like a fucked up carousel.  
  
He can hear Osamu's alarmed voice calling for him, but Suna ignores it and makes his way toward his backpack where he pulls out his key. Back at the window he groans, defeated, cool air feeling like bliss against his warm face.  
  
"Yer okay?" Osamu asks, but Suna has no idea if he's worried. He sounds like it, though.  
  
"Yeah, I'm having the time of my life," Suna says dryly, stretching his hand out before looking down. "Here's the key. You have to catch it!"  
  
"A'ight!" Osamu positions himself under Suna's windowsill, catching the key with ease.  
  
"Comin' in!" Osamu unnecessarily announces and Suna drags himself back to his bed, waiting for Osamu.  
  
  
  
"So... what's wrong with ya?" Osamu asks while dropping all his stuff on the floor.  
  
Suna groans. "Everything is spinning."  
  
Osamu shoots him a sympathetic look. "Again?"  
  
"Yeah." Suna is surprised that Osamu remembers it. The last time was like four months ago on a weekend, and only quickly mentioned.  
  
"'s not contagious, right?" But Osamu is already sitting next to his bed, hand feeling for an indication of a fever like Suna's mom hours ago. Suna just lets him and closes his eyes as the cold palm touches his skin.

It's nice.  
  
"Yer warm...but it might be ‘cause 'm cold," Osamu mumbles and slides his hand over Suna's cheek before pulling away completely. "So, why didn't ya answer my texts?"  
  
Suna opens his eyes to look at how Osamu's leaning against the bed, head resting on the arm that's lying on the mattress. He's fairly close but Suna doesn't do anything but watch him.  
  
"My mom took my phone away. She wants me to rest properly,” Suna explains, tempted to roll his eyes. Luckily, he doesn’t.  
  
Osamu cocks an eyebrow. "And yer still alive?"  
  
Suna sighs dramatically. "Barely. Does Google still exist?"  
  
Osamu huffs amusedly and Suna feels his face heat up.  
  
"Yup, ya can still google yer English homework," Osamu assures him with a big smile. "Speakin' of homework, can I do mine here?"  
  
"Don't you have a home?" Suna asks.  
  
"Yeah, but 's also Tsumu's home and that's the problem," Osamu grimaces, making Suna laugh.  
  
"Very problematic indeed."  
  
Suna observes Osamu setting up his stuff right beside him. Their homework isn't that interesting, but then again it's not the most boring thing Suna has done today. Osamu reads all the questions out loud before scribbling his answers down and asks Suna for help whenever he's stuck. As a reward Suna gets some unwrapped chocolate that Osamu dug out of their kitchen.  
  
Sometimes they get lost in their own stories or comment on the news on the radio. It makes Suna forget about his partially shitty day when he giggles with Osamu about the most mundane stuff. The giddiness rushes right through him, telling his fingers to curl harder around the soft blanket. It's turning into an almost perfectly lazy day.  
  
So cozy, that Suna deliberately ignores the churning of his stomach when he sees Osamu's eyes crinkle despite hearing a particularly lame joke. All is good until it's suddenly too late to speak up because the hand over his mouth is desperately trying to keep the food inside. The room trips and turns as Suna tries to get a hold of the bucket. Even though Osamu helps him pretty quickly, it ends up in a complete mess.  
  
Suna's hands are already full of vomit when they cling to the bucket for dear life. Seemingly every little crumb of food wants to see the light of day again, painfully making its way through Suna's throat. His eyes begin to water. He can barely feel an awkward hand on his back, but the longer Suna takes the more comfortable Osamu gets. The motions get more soothing, but Suna is still shaking underneath his touch.  
  
"Breathe," Osamu reminds him with the most gentle tone, but Suna's heart is pounding so hard that he can only manage shuddering breaths.

He doesn't trust his body to be done with the puking already, so he just stays a little longer, hunched over the bucket. Honestly, Suna doesn't want to lift his head ever again. Not when Osamu's having first row seats to the nasty outcome of his sickness. The hot shame is already gnawing at him.  
  
"Yer okay?"  
  
Suna manages to answer him with a shaky yes. Osamu pulls away and Suna hears him rummaging through his backpack. It seems like he is packing his stuff and Suna fully understands.  
  
"Here," Osamu says as he turns around to give him some tissues, "clean up."  
  
"...Okay."  
  
It's gross enough to wipe the vomit off his body and clothes when he’s alone, but with Osamu beside him, it's just humiliating. Suna doesn't know what to say when Osamu sits on his mattress watching him.  
  


"...Sorry," is the only thing he can think of as he tosses the first tissue in the bucket.  
  
"Stop bein’ stupid, Sunarin," Osamu tells him.  
  
The blanket rustles beneath him as Osamu leans forward to tuck the loose strands of hair behind Suna's ear, probably before they get too close to his mouth. Suna doesn't dare to breathe or move, skin flaring up where Osamu's fingers brushed against it.  
  
"'s not like I didn't know about yer strong aversion to physics homework,” Osamu says, probably proudly grinning at the sound of it.  
  
Suna cracks a smile. "It's more your jokes that make me gag."  
  
"Ma jokes must've been pretty good until now then," Osamu muses while handing Suna his last tissue to clean himself with.  
  
"Don't flatter yourself too much," Suna says weakly. "Thanks."  
  
"'s nothin'. Wanna go t’ th’ bathroom?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Frankly, Suna doesn't want to stand up, but he also can't keep lying in his bed with this bad aftertaste in his mouth. So he puts the bucket aside and makes his way to the bathroom on trembling legs. He feels like a zombie that's been killed six times already but unfortunately in all the wrong ways.  
  
"Ya need help?" he hears Osamu ask behind him, but Suna doesn't want to hold onto Osamu with his still unclean hands. He feels disgusting enough already.  
  
"No, I can manage."  
  
And he does reach the sink where he washes his hands and face thoroughly. Looking in the mirror, Suna's barely able to recognize himself. In contrast to his dark hair, his skin appears to be white as a ghost’s. Combined with his sunken and teary eyes he could work at a haunted house, no additional makeup needed. He looks revolting, not that it matters anyway. Defeated, Suna takes off his stained sweater to toss it into the laundry bin and brushes his teeth before going to bed again.  
  
When he enters his room he sees two blankets from his living room on his bed as well as a clean bucket on the floor. The cold air hits him from the opened window, but Osamu is nowhere to be found. Suna is close to real tears this time. He snuggles back into bed and inhales the fresh air with closed eyes, waiting for Osamu to come back. When he does, Suna looks at him with big eyes.  
  
"Thanks. I owe you."  
  
"I didn't give ya ma kidney, I just put yer blanket next t’ th' washing machine. Ya don't owe me shit fer that," Osamu says like it's not a big deal, and it probably isn't but Suna can't help but feel this comforting warmth deep in his chest.  
  
"'m makin’ ya some tea. Think that'd be good fer ya," Osamu informs him to break the silence between them as he shuts the window.  
  
"You really don-"  
  
"I really don't hafta listen t’ ya, yer right."

And with that Osamu is gone.

* * *

_vii._  
  
"Nothin’ makes sense when I don't see Minako-chan on ma way home," Ginjima whines for the fourth time today.

The whole school probably knows about his tragic fate by now. And so does Suna, because unfortunately, Gin took the seat right next to him. It makes Suna fantasize about ramming his chopsticks right through his ears, one for each side. But he reminds himself that it’s better to continue picking up his food instead of stabbing himself.

Luckily, Aran sits with them. He's a textbook problem solver, meaning he just can't let Gin be miserable by himself. It allows Suna's mind to drift off to something he's actually interested in: the volleyball news on his phone and eating his lunch. It's the most efficient way to spend his break when Suna wants to squeeze a sweet short nap in between his lessons.  
  
The glutton leaning against his shoulder is already snoring softly without a care in the world, just like a cat hanging all over his personal heater. It's kind of nice how Osamu fits perfectly into the crook of his neck while his head functions as a highly comfortable cushion. It makes his afternoon nap far more enjoyable.

This arrangement started when Atsumu shrugged Osamu off one too many times, loudly complaining about him being ice cold and sucking the warmth out of him. Osamu was too drowsy to fight back and let himself fall against the other person next to him. This person happened to be Suna. He never really cared about the company, so it just stayed that way between them. But unlike Atsumu, Suna always feels warm with Osamu pressed against him.  
  
"Hey, look at that," Suna whispers to Akagi as he pushes his phone over to him, leaning more to the side to get it over to him.  
  
He feels Osamu stirring next to him. He's mumbling something incoherent but Suna is too engaged in capturing Akagi's reaction to the article. But when the weight literally lifts off his shoulder and his hand gets pulled away from him, Suna turns around only to see his last meatball vanish in Osamu's mouth.  
  
"What the…," Suna mumbles, still trying to figure out what had happened. It's too dumb to be true, but it's Osamu, and his dumbassery knows no boundaries.  
  
"...fuck?" he concludes quickly, and instinctively tries to shrug Osamu off his shoulders. "I hope you choke on it."  
  
"Mmmhmmpfpfmh," Osamu tells him, whatever that means.  
  
The huge gulp afterward tells Suna that his biggest and juiciest meatball is already making its way straight to Osamu's stomach. Unbelievable!  
  
"Guys-"  
  
"Shhh... wanna see Sunarin flip his shit fer a change," Suna hears Atsumu say to Aran. But it pulls Suna right off the edge.  
  
Osamu carries a blissful smirk on his lips. "I have some matcha KitKat fer later. 's an equal exchange."  
  
Suna lifts an eyebrow. "You think you can fob me off with KitKat?"  
  
Osamu shrugs. "Was worth a try."  
  
He uses the opportunity to put his chin on Suna's shoulder as if nothing ever happened. Suna wastes no time to elbow him on the side. "I demand fruit jelly sticks."  
  
Unimpressed, Osamu leans against Aran's side now, and Aran just lets it happen. Suna's chest clenches at the sight of being replaced so easily. It sucks the tension right off his body and his shoulders drop along with his eyebrows.  
  
"Wasn't in th' mood fer somethin' fruity", Osamu yawns and looks at him through half-lidded eyes, clearly making himself comfortable with his new cuddle buddy.

Seeing them pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, and head on shoulder sits heavy on Suna's heart. It's irritating how he can't take his eyes off them, knowing full well how utterly ridiculous his sudden gloominess is. Suna tells himself that he just wants Osamu to suffer in uncomfortableness, but getting away with it by hanging all over the next person must be the reason for his crankiness. Aran's a traitor for silently siding with Osamu. The thought puts Suna slightly at ease.

"I hope you choke on your chocolate when you eat it alone," Suna says weakly.  
  
He's ready to get up and leave, but he's trapped between Osamu and Aran as well as Gin and Akagi, so he has to stay and listen to Osamu's stupid giggle.  
  
"Tsumu?" Osamu asks.  
  
"Mhhh?" Atsumu mumbles, napping on the other side of Aran like he's a big teddy bear. Maybe Suna should also throw himself onto him to see what makes him so special. But he doesn't.  
  
"We should have spicy meatballs fer dinner. 'm in th' mood fer it.'  
  
Suna's left eye twitches dangerously. He doesn't know why people call Osamu the nicer twin. He's just as much of an asshole as Atsumu.  
  
"Cool," Atsumu says.  
  
The only thing Suna can do is to exhale deeply, deeper than ever before. The oxygen probably reaches places never reached before to cool down. But it doesn't seem to help. So Suna puts the lid over his half-eaten bento and his phone in his pocket to have more room for a lonely nap bent over the table. But he can’t seem to drift off to sleep anymore.

* * *

_viii._  
  
They all fight like animals in order to get ready for nationals. Every little ounce of strength gets squeezed out of their muscles, heavy feet pounce over the court while the sweat drips off their tired bodies. It's not like Suna should do it, but he occasionally glances at the clock above the basketball net in the hopes of getting a nice warm shower and a good meal. It's not like Suna doesn't love the game, he truly does. But he knows they're all ready to win the trophy, no questions asked. He is so certain that he’ll be able to spike and block any ball he gets his hand on because he runs after it like a hungry fox after a delicious prey.

He jumps with all his might to block the ball coming his way with a smile on his lips that gets smacked off as Osamu crashes into him like an A-plus Rugby player. They both fall to the ground and Suna bangs the side of his head against the wooden floor. And if the hellish pain wasn't enough, Osamu's pig head slams right into Suna’s mouth as if he’s trying to split his whole face in half. Everything comes to a halt as the shrill sound of a whistle echoes in the hall.  
  
"Fuuuuck," Suna groans as he presses his palm against his throbbing lips.  
  
Osamu wasn't having the time of his life, either, but Suna really doesn't care. His dumb brain should be dense enough to survive this.  
  
"Sorry," Osamu yelps.  
  
"Wrong sport, you moron!" Suna spits out.  
  
"I said sorry!" Osamu sits up, looking at him along with every other member of Inarizaki circling them.  
  
A wild mixture of reactions rain down on them, not distinctive enough for Suna to answer individually. Slightly confused, Suna props himself up on his elbows.  
  
"Yer bleedin'!" he hears Gin saying.  
  
Suna looks up to Gin. "Huh?"  
  
"Are ya alright?" Osamu asks.  
  
His gaze falls back on Osamu. "Yeah, w-"  
  
Osamu runs his thumb just around the corner of Suna's mouth. His hand weighs heavy around Suna's jaw, but his slightly calloused fingertips move gently over his skin and lips. And all of a sudden all the thoughts vanish like Osamu tossed them all out with a flick of his wrist. So easy, so merciless, stripping Suna of all the words and phrases he has ever known.  
  
_Oh hell no!_  
  
The truth hits him like a punch to the gut. An unforgettable harsh swing that Suna has no chance of dodging, leaving him in awe and making him stare at Osamu like he's the one throwing fists.  
  
"...ed help?"  
  
A weird sound escapes his mouth, too distant to resemble anything slightly Japanese. He's far too distracted by the uneasy look Osamu shoots at him. Cloudy grey eyes and low hanging bushy eyebrows accompanied with a small frown. Worry. Osamu worries and Suna worries, too, about the fever in his heart.  
  
"...Toma-san will bring you to the nurse," says the coach of the other school, who just seems to appear out of nowhere. Suna turns his head so quickly that he almost breaks his neck, hissing in pain. The manager Toma-san stands next to the coach, a petite girl with long black hair tied back in a ponytail.  
  
"Ummmm...okay," Suna agrees. It's not like he has a choice anyway. So he gets back on his feet, purposely avoiding Osamu's outstretched hand before him.  
  
"Yer need a nurse, too, Osamu?", Kita-san asks.  
  
Osamu shakes his head. "Nah, 'm good."  
  
Of course Osamu is okay, he used Suna as a fluffy, large cushion. But Suna's head is pounding like a jackhammer. He quickly grabs the towel that’s handed to him without even trying to look where it came from to bury his face in the soft fabric. He wants to hide the shame rushing through him, face already flushed from playing but now it feels like his insides are burning into crisps.  
  
_Did I hit my head so badly?_  
  
Probably, but deep inside of him he knows that it’s not the reason. But there’s no other excuse in sight when his very own thought just bursts like a soap bubble, fizzling out and leaving a trail of absolute nonsense as he feels Osamu's hand softly press against his shoulder blades. They involuntarily flinch under his touch.  
  
"'m really sorry," Osamu tells him again, making Suna slightly turn his head without really looking at him.  
  
He just can’t.  
  
"...don't worry about it," Suna assures him in a very controlled manner. Or at least he’d like to think that he sounds that way.  
  
Suna follows Toma-san out of the gym, not even looking back when Osamu yells something about picking him up later. Suna wishes Osamu wouldn't always keep his word. The panic blooms in his chest with each step he takes through the unknown school grounds. The only thing that’s kind of grounding him right now is the towel in his hands, fingers clinging onto it as if his life depends on it. It helps him rub these lingering tingles on his skin away.

* * *

_ix._  
  
"'s stupid," Osamu grunts.  
  
"I know," Suna agrees while side-eyeing Osamu laying next to him. It's more like a side blinking because raindrops fall merciless onto his face and blind his sight occasionally.  
  
“But I still can’t believe that you thought I was going to die,” Suna cackles while taking a punch to the shoulder that actually hurts. It only makes him laugh more, holding his belly like it’s going to burst.  
  
“Sh-Shaddap!” Osamu sputters defensively. “People usually only come up with that bucket list shit when they know they’re goin’ t’ die.”  
  
Surely Suna is not going to kick the bucket anytime soon, but Osamu’s worry is truly touching. And ridiculously stupid.  
  
4) Relax in the rain  
  
Usually, rainy days are full of frowning people strutting around in the hopes of finding some shelter. They may be even prepared enough to carry an umbrella around, but Suna wants to know if it's really that bad to get soaking wet on an early autumn day. The only person he wanted to share this revelation with was Osamu, who surprisingly didn't need much convincing.  
  
"You watch too many dramas," Suna nearly yells over the harsh pitter-patter against the concrete. "But don't you wanna do some stupid things, too?"  
  
Osamu shrugs. "'m doin' somethin' stupid right now."  
  
Suna sighs and rolls his eyes. Was Osamu trying to be overly obnoxious today? But then again, stupid questions get stupid answers, right?  
  
"Yeah, but what do you want to do?" Suna still wants to know. He's in the mood for something even more stupid, because this right now is fun.  
  
It's silent for such a long time that Suna begins to ask himself if Osamu heard him saying anything at all. But a glance tells him that Osamu is deep in thought like he's never even considered that kind of stuff. Suna waits for him patiently. It's not like they're in a rush to be somewhere else. Somewhere, where they're not together.  
  
"I wanna quit volleyball after high school," Osamu says after a while, but his voice wavers. Maybe he’s just shivering in the cold.  
  
Suna crosses his arms behind his head for a little more comfort. "That's not stupid."  
  
"'t might be."  
  
“Nah, cooking suits you better," Suna reassures him easily, thinking back to the very first time Osamu made himself at home in Suna’s kitchen with stars in his eyes. Nothing in this world suited him better than the fond smile on his lips.  
  
Osamu stirs next to him and props himself up on his elbow to watch Suna with a slight crease between his eyebrows. “How'd ya know 'bout cookin'?”  
  
What was he so surprised for?  
  
It makes Suna frown, too. "Cause you made me onigiri for my birthday-”  
  
“I couldn't have spiked ya a volleyball in th' face as a present, could I?” Osamu asks weirdly defensively as he theatrically gestures with his other hand. It makes him lose his balance and fall over with a shocked face, but he manages to catch himself before causing Suna another freaking headache.  
  
“I know, dumbass. But you’d rather buy ingredients and make some delicious food for I dunno how long than look for something volleyball related and be done with it," Suna says after an eternity, still amused at the way Osamu let himself fall on his back with a loud splat and a pained groan.  
  
Other than that Osamu remains silent again, looking up to the dark clouds above him like they know a better answer than his brain. Suna already knows he has hit quite the nerve but he doesn’t understand Osamu’s hesitation on this matter.  
  
“When my block is flawless or when I score points with my spikes I feel invincible. My head repeats these moments over and over again because it's so cool. What do you think about when you score?” Suna tries again, still waiting for an answer even though  
  
Osamu's first reaction was to sigh.  
  
“....what 'm gonna make fer dinner after practice.”  
  
"What a surprise," Suna deadpans. "Is that why I always see you drooling?"  
  
It earns him another punch in the arm. It's so weak that it almost tickles.  
  
"Shaddap, ya don't!"  
  
Suna giggles. "I gotta be careful to not slip on your nasty drool."  
  
"Stop bein’ annoyin’!"  
  
Osamu pushes Suna further away and tries to flip him over like a pancake with all the might of his hands and feet. The mud of Osamu's shoes clings to Suna's clothes as the cold does to his bones, but all Suna does is laugh and squirm over the imagery in his head.  
  
  
  
After a lot of laughter and bewildered stares from people passing by, Suna sighs dramatically as the chuckles fade out and the melody of the rain takes over. Osamu just sighs along with him, lying so much closer to Suna than before. Suna doesn't question it, though.  
  
He nudges Osamu's feet with his own.  
  
"But seriously, it's not stupid if you love it," Suna tells him between their silence and his stolen glances. He watches Osamu push his wet fringe out of his eyes before he meets Suna's gaze.  
  
"I guess," Osamu says.  
  
“Now tell me something really silly you want to do. The dumbest thing you can think of,” Suna encourages Osamu once again.  
  
“Eatin' lots of ice cream without Tsumu wantin' a share,” Osamu tells him with a small smile on his face.  
  
Suna would’ve made another stupid comment about food if it weren’t for the innocent thought in Osamu’s head. It’s absolutely adorable, probably something Suna can imagine him dreaming of at least every other night.  
  
“Today’s a good day for staying at home and eating ice cream, don’t you think?”

* * *

_x._  
  
"Rin?"  
  
Suna is nose deep in his maths book as he tries to get this stupid formula into his brain. He only has five minutes left before their test starts, but the calculations he's desperately scribbling down just don't seem to work out.  
  
"Rintarou?"  
  
"No!" Suna says firmly, eyes still on these senseless strings of numbers.  
  
He can’t lose his focus now! For Osamu, all help comes too late, but not for Suna. Unfortunately for him, Osamu doesn't think so as he sprawls across Suna's damn table, blocking his book from view entirely. But Suna ignores him and continues his calculations anyway.  
  
That is until Osamu swoops the pencil right out of his hand to hide it under his crossed arms. Suna narrows his eyes and presses his lips tightly together because he already knew that he was going to lose this battle as soon as Osamu accidentally brushed his hand. Unimpressed, Osamu props his head sideways on his left arm.  
  
"Rin," he says softly, looking up to him with a genuinely sweet smile like he's a puppy looking for love.  
  
Suna feels his hand already itching to get lost in Osamu's hair, skimming his bangs away to press a lingering kiss on his forehead. One of these sappy smooches where Suna would hum against Osamu's skin to make him hopefully beam like a thousand suns.  
  
_Ugh. Gross._  
  
Suna assumes that Osamu isn't looking for that kind of attention.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I wanted t’ ask ya somethin'."  
  
"Really?" Suna sighs, wondering why he's already beating around the bush.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"...well?"  
  
"Ya goin' to the festival this Saturday?" Osamu asks.  
  
"Dunno," Suna shrugs and lays his head in his hand.  
  
"Ya should come with us," Osamu suggests.  
  
_Us._  
  
This little word makes his stomach drop like it's been strapped to a free fall tower seat on its way to hell. That's right, there is a 'us' to Osamu now and Suna doesn't think he can bear the third-wheeling.  
  
"Us...," Suna repeats quietly and sits back straight again, careful to avoid serving Osamu his heartstrings on a silver platter.  
  
"Yeah, us, but I was thinkin' we could ditch Tsumu as soon as it's crowded enough." A sly smile graces Osamu’s lips like he’s a true mastermind for coming up with such an idea.  
  
All Suna can do is blink in confusion.  
  
"And your girlfriend?" Suna asks, swallowing the venom on the tip of his tongue.  
  
Bushy brows furrow deeply as Osamu pulls his head slightly back to have a better look at Suna. "My what?"  
  
"Your girlfriend. Is she coming, too?"  
  
Now Osamu leans back into his chair too, certainly taken aback. "Whaddaya blabberin' about? I don't have one."  
  
"Because you broke up?"  
  
Osamu shakes his head, completely puzzled. "No, ‘cause I've never had one. Ya havin' a stroke?"  
  
Honestly, Suna wouldn't rule that possibility out right now. He isn't even sure if he just wanted Osamu to say that or if he actually told Suna that he has no girlfriend. Suna's mouth opens and closes again, scowling slightly because this just doesn't add up.  
  
"You said you had a girlfriend like a week ago. When we played truth or dare at Fujiwara-san's birthday," Suna remembers bitterly.  
  
He knows this for a fact because he wouldn't forget how every little fiber of him froze up, along with his heart that stopped as soon as the word 'girlfriend' left Osamu's mouth. Not only did this revelation take Suna by total surprise in front of a whole crowd, but the disappointment of actually losing against a girl made him almost tear up. Even when Suna already knew that this was likely going to happen someday, it still made him clench his fists in the pockets of his jacket to distract himself from the lump hurting in his throat.  
  
The miserable thought of Osamu being happy with someone else followed him night and day, even though he already tried to admit defeat dozens of times. Suna only didn't ask Osamu about it afterward because it seemed easier that way. The less Suna knew the better it was. And now Osamu pretends like nothing ever happened?  
  
"Ahhh...that. I lied.”  
  
He lied. Osamu lied. And Atsumu, the asshole, decided to be not an asshole to Osamu for a millisecond and played along. They both lied.  
  
"You lied," Suna hears himself saying, completely emotionless. "Why?"  
  
"I didn't wanna kiss Harada-san."  
  
"Harada-san is one of the prettiest girls in our year." The words just stumble out of Suna's mouth. Fucking hell, anybody would've kissed her, maybe even Suna. But just to test if girls would even make him feel anything at all.  
  
"'kay," Osamu shrugs, "still didn't wanna kiss her."  
  
"Ah…," Suna says unintelligently, head empty.  
  
All the pain he felt was for nothing. And so the torture of getting hopeful again starts right away, no further questions asked. It's like he's on a rodeo, being tossed and turned around but still holding onto the little possibility of Osamu liking him back. When Suna gets thrown off, well, he already got a good glimpse of how much that sucks.  
  
"It's called body autonomy," Osamu tells him, proud of actually knowing how to use some fancy-sounding words correctly, but it only makes him sound stupid. And Suna wants to kick him in the shins for that, so he does. The whole chair moves backward as Osamu yelps in pain.  
  
"Th’ fuck was that for?", Osamu hisses like it really hurt. Good.  
  
"For distracting me, dumbass," Suna retorts and takes the chance to get his pencil back.  
  
"Sheeesh, 'm sorry." Osamu honestly doesn’t sound like it, though.  
  
But Suna already acts like he's ignoring Osamu, trying his hardest to look unfazed while his insides are high on a rush of endorphins.  
  
"Don't worry, yer still my favorite, Rin," Osamu assures him so casually and innocently, completely unaware of the effect he has on Suna. His heart actually stutters at the fondness of his words. The pen in his hand comes loose, but Suna plays it off as letting it drop voluntarily.  
  
He meets Osamu with a lopsided grin, that slowly builds up to his usual cheekiness. "I don't worry about your taste, Samu."  
  
Osamu huffs and leans forward again, taking over Suna's table with a matching smile. It would be so easy to pull on the red tie around his neck to find out what Osamu's smirk tastes like. The heat under his collar unmistakably increases tenfold, but Suna has to remind himself that Osamu probably didn’t mean it that way.  
  
"Does that mean yer comin' with me?"  
  
"Will you buy me dinner?" Suna tries.  
  
"Nope," Osamu says, smacking his slightly chewed lips to make the 'p' pop. It distracts Suna from his actual ungraciousness.  
  
"I'll pick ya up at seven. Wear a yukata."  
  
Osamu turns back to his desk again just as the bell rings. Suna jumps at the high volume, reality taking him back to the maths book before him. He decides to slam himself headfirst into the pages in the hopes that something written in it will stick to his brain. But if the calculations aren't tattooed over Osamu's lips there is no way he’ll remember them.  
  
"Fuck," Suna groans quietly, "I'm so fucked."

* * *

_xi.  
_  
“Ya realize we could do this whenever, right?”

“Then get your ass outside and do it there.”

Osamu scoffs. “Are ya stupid? ’m gonna freeze t’ death out there.”

“So you’re saying we can’t do it whenever, huh?” Suna smirks, knowingly bracing himself for Osamu’s elbow nudging him. “I’ll lend you a hand warmer. Be gone.”

"No."

But Suna is already spreading his arm closest to Osamu over the mattress in a weak attempt to force him off the bed.

"Fuck off!" Osamu tries to snap at him, but the words are soft around the edges. He’s never been good at being angry at someone other than Atsumu.

Suna decides to leave him be. They both fall into a comfortable silence as they look up to the galaxy stretching across Suna’s whole room. He had gotten a star projector on his birthday, which was already a couple of days ago. Stargazing in the coziness of his own room while the snow outside is falling and gently resting on his windowsill puts Suna oddly at ease. It takes him back to his childhood.

“I recently remembered that I had this kind of thing as a kid,” he murmurs and hears Osamu’s head slightly turning towards him as the blanket beneath him begins to rustle. “Not that fancy…just really big stars, like you’d draw them on paper in all kinds of colors.”

Suna can feel the eyes on him, waiting for him to indulge more in his little story. “It was like counting sheep but with stars. I think I actually learned to count that way.”

Osamu hums in acknowledgment. "And now ya wanna count these tiny dots t' sleep?"

"Maybe," Suna shrugs, raising an eyebrow questioningly at Osamu. "Wanna help?"

Irritated, Osamu clicks his tongue at the idea but seems to change his mind fairly quickly. “Well, would be better than lookin’ at t’ stupid bunk bed above me.”

“With stupid Tsumu in it,” Suna adds and Osamu’s brows lower, lips pouting.

“With stupid Tsumu snorin' like a stupid boar. Wish I could have my own room," Osamu sighs with his whole body.

Suna understands him completely. It's annoying enough to meet Atsumu at school, but also having to stand him back home sounds like torture.

"You could try to get rid of him," Suna suggests nonchalantly. “Nothing too serious, but horrendous enough to make him move to the tub or into a card box outside.”

Osamu huffs amused. “Whaddaya have in mind?”

Suna points up to the ceiling before he lets his arm fall back into the mattress again. “Ask the stars. They have all the answers.”

"Don't think 'm gonna get much outta star constellations."

Suna giggles. "You’re right because constellations have nothing to do with that kind of thing."

"Tell me what they’re for if yer such a know-it-all," Osamu groans.

“I used to know about them quite a lot,” Suna admits with a small frown on his face. “My dad told me about them.”

He hears a little gasp and Suna's heart clenches.  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t know.”

Suna tilts his head to the side to offer Osamu a fake smile. It’s not his fault that Suna never really talks about his father. Bringing it up always feels kind of awkward and out of place. Just like now, people instinctively shy away from this kind of topic with an apology.

“Please, don’t apologize.”

“Uh, ‘kay.” Osamu quickly averts his gaze in an attempt to gather his thoughts. Suna can basically hear his gears grinding as he bites on his lips deciding what to say next. “How’d he know ‘bout th’ stars?”

The question genuinely surprises Suna. People never wanted to know more about his dad’s life so far. They were just nosy enough to ask for the circumstances of his death and expressed their sympathy towards him and his mother right afterward.

“He helped make these films they project in planetariums. That’s probably why he got me a projector as a kid.”

“Did ya watch any of the stuff he made?”

“Yeah, I went with my mom a couple of times. When I told her about the projector she wasn’t happy about it…. but I get why.” In the end, she bought it for him but was heavily against the idea to test it out in their living room. It caused a fight on his birthday.

“Are ya two okay?” It’s hardly more than a whisper, but Osamu’s concern still shows through his calm voice.

Suna twists his fingers nervously.

“It's been a long time,” Suna deflects as he looks somewhere far off. He doesn’t want it to be like this. He originally planned to show Osamu something nice and talk about stuff that isn't all too serious. But Suna brought it all on himself.

“Yer sure, Rin?” Osamu's words are dipped in honey, sickly sweet, and sticking right to Suna’s poor heart. He has no right to be so attentive to Suna’s feelings. “Ya can tell me if yer not.”

"I know," Suna says, following with a big exhale, "it's just...I'm already…."

His voice cracks and Suna presses his lips together, trying to smile like nothing's wrong.

_I'm a hypocrite._

It’s been so long since Suna locked all the things he’s known about his father away, a box so deeply buried in the depth of his heart that most of their memories together have already faded into something Suna isn’t able to get a hold of anymore. And it didn’t help that his mom never talked about him ever again after they placed flowers in his basket. He stupidly thought that he had cried his eyes out on his birthday night, but they already start to sting again like traitors.

Osamu doesn’t pry. He just offers help and waits for it to be declined or accepted like he’s fine either way. Without another word, Osamu detangles Suna’s fingers carefully to get a hold of the hand closest to him and Suna just stares at the stars scattered on his ceiling. A tear forms in the corner of his eye, silently making its way down to his ear.

“I‘m forgetting him,” Suna explains, every word hurting like it’s cutting its way right through his tightened throat. “He’s not here. My mom never talks about him...and I just have her.”

More tears spill over his already flushed face. Suna uses the back of his other hand to wipe the snot off his nose since one is already tightly held by Osamu. It feels familiar. Rough skin and caring touches, as the thumb purposefully wanders over Suna's knuckles.

“His family is still in Aichi and we’re here like nothing happened. It’s like I never had a dad.”

Suna takes a huge breath and exhales slowly, thinking about how he already said enough to finally close that door again and throw away the key. There's not much to say about this situation anyway. It's awfully apparent in the way Osamu stays silent for a long time.

"Ya wanna tell me 'bout him?" Osamu asks softly when Suna already thinks that this topic is over.

"Huh?" is all Suna can manage before he has to clear his throat.

"If ya have no one to talk to 'bout him ya can talk to me,'' Osamu offers with a shrug. He's so close that Suna can feel his shoulders rise and fall. "Maybe ya will remember stuff ya think ya forgot."

It surprisingly makes sense. Surprisingly because Suna didn't think of it sooner, but he probably would have dismissed that idea anyway. He wouldn't want to bother his friends, but it’s so ridiculously easy to talk to Osamu.

Still, a tiny doubt keeps nagging him. "But it's already close to midnight."

Osamu would probably be fast asleep if it weren't for Suna.

Osamu scoffs at the weak attempt. "And yer a night owl so yer brain should work better than durin' yer last maths test." He nudges Suna playfully with his shoulder and looks over, catching the corner of Suna's lips go up. "A lot better."

It grows into a small smile. "Very funny."

"C'mon, don't make me wait." Osamu sounds excited and squeezes Suna's hand reassuringly.

And Suna begins to talk.

* * *

_xii._  
  
"Sorry fer dragging' ya with me. I know ‘s a lot."

“Yeah, right. I know you're not sorry about it,“ Suna mutters, both hands occupied with carrying two fully packed bags.

Osamu just hums, amused, basically telling Suna he's right.

But Suna can't complain since Osamu has an additional backpack on his back. He insisted on carrying more like he’s some generous Gentleman, but that's the least Osamu could do for roping Suna into his excessive grocery shopping.

Maybe Osamu is a medium and knows about something the rest of the world is unaware of like a future zombie apocalypse because otherwise, Suna couldn't explain the weight of these bags. Only the fruit jelly sticks belong to him and they are buried in the depths of Osamu's backpack so Suna can’t even grab them and run away if Osamu does or says something stupid. Suna is sure he planned this beforehand. It was actually pretty clever.

“Why didn’t they have cheese?” Osamu asks for the fifth time on their long way back to his house.  
  
“‘s the biggest store ‘round here, dammit! ‘m never gonna get to make ma own cheesy onion rings,” he continues whining.

Actually, Osamu is exaggerating a little bit. The store had cheese, but it was just damn expensive and therefore not worth buying. Osamu’s mom would’ve gone feral on them if they had come back with a receipt this long.

They turn into a narrow back alley and Osamu is still talking about the fact that Japanese cuisine lacks cheese. The truth is Suna never cared about this stuff and always stuck to the kitchen basics, but now after meeting Osamu his social media apps are full of gorgeous pictures of meals and new recipes. Only because he knows he gets to see Osamu's face light up whenever Suna discovers something new. Or how he scrunches his nose in disgust whenever Suna shows him something ridiculously stupid like licorice in ramen.

And Suna listens and asks questions just to keep Osamu talking, about whatever he wants and whatever makes his pretty eyes shine like the moonlight. The more Osamu obsesses over a topic the more vibrant his voice gets. Suna can't help but stare at the mouth that so eagerly wants to get its point across. Even when he’s agitated.

"I like you," Suna hears himself blurting out.

The words just roll off his tongue, bold but also hopelessly fond around the edges. Beside the initial shock, Suna feels like it's long overdue. It's not the way he imagined it would go, but tomorrow is Valentine's Day. A day where lots of pretty girls will try to win Osamu over by handing him delicious chocolate cutely packaged with a bow and a confession letter. Not that they ever stopped doing that, but what if one of them finally succeeds?

Suna stops walking, his very bones rattling with cruel uncertainty. Only the heavy bags on his hands keep him grounded, grip tightening around the handles until they slightly cut into his palms. Suna watches Osamu walking two or three steps ahead, ending his sentence like he didn't quite catch it. Then, after two painful heartbeats, Osamu stops dead in his tracks and turns back around.

Osamu slightly lifts his shoulders.

"'m talkin' 'bout cheese," Osamu points out in bewilderment, making it almost sound like a question. It's awfully clear that he doesn't know how to draw the connection to Suna's nonsense and Suna can't even blame him for that.

"Thought you'd like a cheesy confession," Suna jokes but his flat voice doesn't serve as a punchline. Simply because there was none. It was a stupidly cringy thing to say to begin with and he honestly should have kept his mouth shut.  
  
Now it's too late to press his lips into a thin line, but Suna does it anyway. He's awfully close to puking his heart out, right before Osamu's feet, and ready for another dumb remark.

_See? My heart wants to be with you._

Osamu just stares at him. He blinks and tilts his head to the side, reminding Suna of a confused Golden Retriever.

"A confession…," Osamu mutters, eyes drifting off into the distance before they disappear with laughter. It throws Suna completely off guard. He feels his knees caving in, so he kicks off some dust to stay on his legs.

Osamu transfers one plastic bag to his other occupied hand, crinkling plastic and warm chuckles filling their ears, only for him to be able to wiggle his fingers in Suna's direction.

"I like ya, too, Rin," Osamu tells him softly with a smile that reaches his eyes. "Think I always have."

Suna's face flushes right to the tip of his ears, heart seemingly playing pinball with his guts as he follows Osamu's lead to close the distance between them. He already knows that Osamu's hands are going to be cold and rough, but Suna adores every little bump and every single scar he feels when their fingers intertwine. Be it cat scratches, accidental burns, postgame calluses, or dry winter skin. It doesn't matter when Osamu holds him with this gentle firmness.  
  
  
  
“Ya sure ’s enough fer ya two?” Osamu asks, again. The first time was in the kitchen when he ladled almost everything of their remaining food into a big container, despite Suna telling him that it was not necessary.

“It’s plenty. Even though I wanted ‘Tsumu to cry about it,” Suna tells him with a grin. But wasting all the food on him and his mother alone was unreasonable and rude, so he had Osamu scoop a big chunk back into the pot for their next lunch.

“Easy t’ say if yer don’t hafta listen t’ his stupid whinin’ all night,” Osamu says and pulls something out of the big pocket of his sweater. “Here. ‘s fer ya.”

Suna doesn’t even have a chance to question it as Osamu already hands him the package. “Huh? Oh, okay…”

It’s a heart made out of jelly fruit sticks and a wire that holds it all in form. Suna opens his mouth in wonder but nothing comes out of it, so he closes it again. He lets his eyes wander up to Osamu who just buries his hands deep in his pockets, watching.

“I know Valentine's day ‘s not until tomorrow but ‘s savin’ me th’ trouble of sneakin’ it under yer table,” Osamu explains sheepishly.

“Like a coward?” Suna snorts, trying not to laugh out loud.

Osamu frowns, cheeks dusted in a light shade of pink and shoes slightly digging into the dirt. “...shaddap!”

Suna can’t help but smile at the sight, heart overflowing with fondness as he pulls the present closer to his body. When he was younger he never cared about Valentine’s chocolates. He accepted them with a blank face and harsh words, even more after he joined the popular volleyball team of Inarizaki. Suna truly dreaded those days, unlike Atumu who only saw it as a competition and a scale of popularity. But this is the best thing Suna has ever received.

“I don’t have anything for you, though,” Suna has to admit. There is no way he can pull this stunt until tomorrow morning. Even if he wanted to, he doesn’t have the ingredients at home and all the shops are already closed. “Sorry.”

Osamu shrugs. “‘s what White Day’s fer, if ya wanna.”

Suna’s grin grows wider. “Yeah."

Suna carefully puts the jelly heart on top of the container that’s already in a bag for him to carry home. He really should go home but he doesn’t want to. On the other hand, he doesn’t know what to say next. Their usually peaceful silence suddenly becomes weird and overbearing, so Suna fiddles awkwardly with the bag.

"So... ya wanna do somethin' tomorrow?" Osamu asks, slight uncertainty straining his voice as if Suna could actually say no to that offer.

"Cause of Valentine's Day?"

The corners of Osamu's mouth go slightly upwards, just the tiniest bit to be classified as a smile before he drops it with a shrug. "Mmmh."

"You're a secret romantic?"

Suna is not ready for this new revelation. Osamu never seemed to care about this lovey-dovey stuff either, but then again he just pulled out Suna's favorite snacks and asked him out on a whim. Just because of Valentine’s day.

Osamu shoots a half-assed glare at him. "Ya confessed, now deal with th' consequences."

So he's not denying it.

"Huh," says Suna, because that's all there is to it. "Sure, I'm in."

Osamu pushes himself off the wall, smiling. "I'll text ya th' details later. Don't wanna give yer mom a reason t' ground ya."

"Okay." Suna shifts his weight onto his heels and grabs the bag tighter. "Yeah, it's pretty late."

Osamu's right. If Suna stays any longer his mom is going to get mad at him. He doesn't want to leave like this, though.

"I'll see ya tomorrow?" Osamu wants to make sure again and Suna hums in agreement.

Then, he takes a deep breath.

“I can't leave without kissing you,” Suna declares as nonchalantly as possible, watching Osamu’s eyebrows rise into his hairline

“Wha- oh, okay," Osamu clears his throat, trying to sound collected. "Sure."  
  
And Suna just stands there and nods. He has no clue how to start, but his body is buzzing with excitement and a small tinge of fear. Still, he's dead set on just going for it, so he does.

It ends in a clumsy attempt at an oh-so magical first kiss. It’s just bumping noses and two lips tightly pressed together, but half of it belongs to Osamu’s stupidly handsome face and that’s enough for Suna’s heart to attempt an actual jailbreak out of his ribcage. It makes his head feel dizzy but in the best way possible, nestling closer as Osamu puts his hand on the small of Suna’s back.

"...didn't want Valentine's Day to be our anniversary," Suna murmurs with eyes still closed.  
  
A low chuckle bounces off Suna's mouth before Osamu leans into him for another kiss. He feels graceless and heavy against Suna, but Osamu's always been someone to carry the tenderness in his hands. He tentatively cradles Suna's face in his palm, cheeks burning furiously as Suna melts into the touch.

Suna's slowly losing the grip on his bag, the handles close to slipping through his fingers until it lands beside their feet. It gives Suna the freedom to let his own hands wander, one on Osamu’s shoulder and the other one on his neck, brushing over the light stubble up to his jawline. Osamu jolts slightly under Suna’s cold fingers. It’s breaking them apart for mere seconds before their lips collide again.

* * *

_xiii._  
  
Suna hates school duties with a burning passion. It’s often a real drag, but today he seems to be having a somewhat lucky day. He's paired with a reliable classmate who pulls her weight, so it only takes them roughly twenty minutes. When Suna leaves through the main door he puts his headphones on, ready to blast some music on his ancient iPod to make his way home a little more interesting until he sees someone familiar standing at the gates. With raised eyebrows, Suna pulls the headphones right off and stuffs them back into his pockets without any consideration.  
  
"Why are ya lookin' at me like that?" is the first thing Osamu asks when Suna is within earshot. He starts walking as soon as Suna catches up to him.  
  
"Dunno…,” Suna shrugs, "thought you'd be gone."  
  
"Nah, wanted to wait fer ya."  
  
"You could've helped me instead," Suna responds dryly. That would have saved him another ten minutes at least.  
  
"Hmmm…..Nah," Osamu laughs.  
  
"Wow, you're a dream, aren't you?" Suna smiles as he shoulder checks Osamu to the side, full-on snickering when he nearly collides with a power box.  
  
"And so attentive," Suna coos but he soon cracks under his laughter.  
  
"'s it hard t' be so stupid?" Osamu asks lamely and picks up the pace to shove back at Suna.  
  
"No, you've been a good role model," Suna chuckles.  
  
Osamu nudges into him again as an answer but ultimately sticks close to his side. Shoulder to shoulder and arm to arm. A warm smile quirks Suna's lips as he eyes Osamu.  
  
"What?" asks Osamu as he cocks an eyebrow warily.  
  
"Nothing,” Suna shrugs sheepishly. “What are you following me for?"  
  
Osamu turns his head around to look back, seemingly seeing someone behind them because he strays a tiny bit away from Suna.  
  
"Jus' wanted to make sure yer stupid ass gets home fine," Osamu growls half-heartedly, letting his words hang in the air before continuing, "...since I won't hear from ya th' whole weekend."  
  
Suna knows full well that Osamu is trying to scold him, but Suna can't help but duck his head and bury his cheeky grin in his warm scarf.  
  
"Worth it," Suna mumbles.  
  
The memory of last night is still so vivid in his head, repeated over a million times just to feel that enticing giddiness rushing through his body all over again. He could melt into a puddle when he thinks about how they kissed until their lips got numb.  
  
In the end, Suna came home twenty minutes too late. Nothing really dramatic, but it was a school night and therefore enough for his mom to go full irate on him.  
  
Osamu grunts annoyed, but the blush on his cheeks tells Suna he's probably thinking the same.

"Hey, I gotta spend the whole weekend with...errr..books and… and…," Suna trails off, not sure what he can actually do without any of his electronics.  
  
".....and?"  
  
Suna grimaces. He has no clue how to survive his solitary confinement. That's why he decides to drop the topic.  
  
Osamu huffs out a breathy laugh. "Yer hopeless."  
  
He's not wrong.  
  
And they're also almost at Suna's home. Compared to all his friends, he lives closest to the school.  
  
"Hey," Suna whispers and grabs Osamu’s hand. Without even another word Suna dashes away with Osamu in tow, laughing as Osamu lets out a baffled yelp. They turn into the next alley and run past a young couple that’s just about to exit a Ramen Shop, nearly stumbling into them on their way.

“Sorry!”, Osamu yells before getting pulled into another backstreet, right behind the other side of a vending machine. It’s far too hidden to be popular for the people strolling through the streets.

“Don’t ya have yer mom waitin’ fer ya?” Osamu pants, face red from their running.  
  
They're still holding onto each other as Suna slouches over, giggling. Then he shakes his head. The snowflakes in Suna's hair fizzle down to his scarf and melt right on his neck. It’s so damn cold, so he takes Osamu’s other hand, too, to warm them.

“I told her that my duty partner is sick. I think we have a few minutes left," Suna explains as he straightens his back.  
  
“Come here,” Suna eventually says as he tugs on Osamu’s hands to draw him closer. "Happy Valentine's day."

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Osamu repeats quietly.  
  
His eyes gleam softly, looking at Suna like he’s going to write an essay about him. The snowflakes get caught in his long eyelashes, but Osamu blinks them away without losing his focus. It makes Suna’s heart jump right through his throat, hands untangling to get a hold of Osamu’s cold face. A few strokes across his skin with jittery fingers finally lure Osamu into a chaste kiss, his own hands grabbing onto the thick fabric of Suna’s coat. Their lips touch with a mixture of imperfection and attentiveness, timid and slow until their lungs give out. Trying all over again, not knowing where to start and where to end. It makes Suna's head lighter, knees buckling under his body. He stumbles backward into the vending machine, arms tightly wrapped around Osamu's neck. Suna giggles, muffled by Osamu's mouth. It's definitely not the worst place to be trapped in.  
  
  
  
“...ya hafta go…,” Osamu mumbles after god knows how long. He’s awfully annoying this way but Suna decides to pull him closer anyway. It keeps Osamu quiet for five blissful seconds.

“...Rin..,” he warns again. “Ya don’t wa-”

“Yeah, I know,” Suna groans, letting his head fall back against the metal. He knows exactly what Osamu was going to say. And what his mom is going to do if he comes back late again. It’s not Osamu’s fault but it sucks.

“My mom can’t see me with you, so you should go, too.”

“A’ight. Sure yer gonna survive?"  
  
Osamu cautiously frees himself out of Suna’s embrace with a rather awkward smile that makes Suna chuckle.  
  
"Not really, but wait,” Suna begins to unwind his scarf. “Take it.”  
  
“Thanks. Tsumu took mine ‘cause his dumbass overslept again and forgot half of his stuff,” Osamu frowns.  
  
Suna flashes him a knowing smile as he loops the scarf around Osamu’s neck. Then he stuffs the two ends into his jacket and pats the puffy spot gently.

“Kick him in the shins for me, okay?” Suna grins.  
  
Osamu nods. "Gladly."  
  
And Suna bends down for a last, sweet kiss before he vanishes around the next corner.


End file.
